


Wildcard

by ferggirl



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Maos Hiatus Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-13 22:17:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1242592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferggirl/pseuds/ferggirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She isn’t supposed to be here. </p><p>Her orders are clear. “Fall back now” leaves very little room for interpretation.</p><p>But with Jemma’s blood still staining her hands, a flash drive heavy in her pocket, and the terrible look of decision on Fitz’s face as he left the room churning her gut, Skye turns right instead of left, heading deeper into the maze of hallways and half-finished offices. </p><p>She needs him. How could she not realize that until now?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wildcard

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OpenPandorasBox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpenPandorasBox/gifts).



She isn’t supposed to be here. 

Her orders are clear. “Fall back now” leaves very little room for interpretation.

But with Jemma’s blood still staining her hands, a flash drive heavy in her pocket, and the terrible look of decision on Fitz’s face as he left the room churning her gut, Skye turns right instead of left, heading deeper into the maze of hallways and half-finished offices. 

They have surprised the Clairvoyant during some remodeling, it appears. 

Her earpiece crackles, and she hears Coulson’s concern in every syllable. “Medievac is ten minutes out. Ward, May, can you hold your position? Send everyone else back.”

Skye knows that Ward is on his knees, his hands holding Jemma together so she doesn’t bleed out. She remembers that feeling vividly, remembers her life not dripping but gushing out of her. The way her vision had greyed and her hands and feet had gone numb. She hopes whoever they’re sending is as good as Jemma Simmons was when it was Skye's own life on the line. 

"They both left five minutes ago," May snaps over the comms. "Should have reached you by now."

The silence is heavy in her ear while the team processes this. 

"Dammit." Coulson sounds worried, and weary. "Fitz, Skye, you fall back. Fall back _now_.”

Skye holds herself quiet against the wall, listening for any acknowledgement. If he turns back, so will she. Not before. She’s not leaving the man whose terrible jokes and delicious popcorn had gotten her through the last three months of agonizing recovery. They still have to watch Pacific Rim. They have to break the Jenga tie. 

He’s the only one she’s told about her 0-8-4 status. Ward would panic, Jemma would prod. Fitz had hugged her.

She needs him. How could she not realize that until now?

There’s nothing. Fitz has either long since ditched his earpiece, or he’s not in the mood to take orders.

Skye takes a deep breath and keeps moving. 

******

He isn’t supposed to be here.

He’s probably in shock. May told him to go back, to give up and fight another day. But he isn’t sure he has another day’s fight in him. He can’t take more days of watching Skye wince as she tries to stretch and work out around the two bullet holes that nearly killed her. 

The team needs time, a break, a breath. Skye’s not fully healed, and on top of it she’s freaked out by the 0-8-4 discovery. Jemma has been running on empty for weeks, and now his best friend is bleeding out on that goddamn floor. 

But she has Ward to keep her alive, to catch her again. May to guard her. Skye to make her smile. 

Skye can make anyone smile. Even him, after seven failed attempts to disarm Ward holding a wooden gun to his head. It’s like a superpower.

They don’t need him, they just need a break. So it’s his turn to do something unexpected. 

It was Skye, unscientific, enthusiastic Skye who figured out the Clairvoyant. Not actual telepathy at all, but a sophisticated nanobot network that infiltrates electronics and feeds to a server.

A server housed here. 

He’s been preparing gadgets for weeks in anticipation of this day. Skye’s virus, properly delivered, should bring the nanobots crashing to the ground and set the Clairvoyant back on his heels. 

They are so close. 

When he left the room, he’d crushed his comm under his shoe and turned toward the server room instead of the safety of the Bus. 

He’d taken three men down on his way there. 

Leo knows what will be waiting for him on the other side of that door. It’s not likely to be fun. But he just has to get close enough for the program to activate.

He closes his eyes and Skye’s terrible Scottish accent flashes through his mind. 

Then the door opens and the two men with automatic weapons gesture him inside. 

"Ah, Leo Fitz," a voice calls out. "I’ve been expecting you."

******

She isn’t supposed to be here.

When Skye bursts through the door five minutes later, the Clairvoyant has only just finished explaining to Fitz all of the reasons why his plan will fail. Leo sees the masked figure’s eyes widen in surprise at the interruption and his mind kicks into high gear.

They had expected him, been ready for his gadgets and his attempts to pollute the server. The Clairvoyant called the items by names that Leo has never shared with the team. He’d scribbled them down, pen to paper, in the privacy of his own bunk. 

But Skye is a twist. Unforeseen. A wildcard. 

_She isn’t supposed to be here._

She takes the two guards down with rounds from the Night-Night gun in her hand. The clairvoyant aims a weapon at Leo’s head. He can’t even bother with fear. He’s too excited.

"It’s not clairvoyance," he says, a fierce smile lighting his face. Skye glares at him in consternation, but he’s off and rolling. "It’s prediction. Very, very advanced stuff, to be sure, lots of data from the nanobots, but what you’ve done is build an algorithm to predict human behavior. You know our choices, our inclinations, before we do. It’s _brilliant._ ”

"Shut up, Fitz," she growls. 

The pistol muzzle presses cold and hard against his temple and Leo remembers, then, that he’s supposed to be afraid. Strange that he’s not. The masked and robed person holding the gun laughs.

"Oh, I’m enjoying it." The more the Clairvoyant talks, the surer Leo is that there’s a voice modulator under that costume. "Of course prediction is part of it. What use all that lovely data if it doesn’t tell me things, hmmm, Dr. Fitz?"

The sound of the pistol cocking pierces the hum of the servers and finally, watching Skye’s gun tremble in her hands, Fitz feels a trickle of fear. 

He didn’t want to hurt anyone else. He doesn’t want her to watch him die. 

"You hurt a hair on his head and I will drop you from a plane at 40,000 feet," Skye hisses. "Parachute not included."

"Creative," the voice coos, "but unlikely. But you want to talk? Let’s discuss your choices today. You were a 92 percent probability of walking away. Yet here stands the 8 percent in front of me."

She takes a few steps forward, and the pressure on his temple increases. 

"Skye, stop," Leo gasps out. "You don’t have to do this."

"Neither do you," she snaps, her wide eyes meeting his for a desperate second before she turns back to their foe. "You’ve taken all of his gear. He’s not a threat anymore. I’m the one with a gun to you. You want to shoot someone, you shoot me."

"I’ve already done that."

"Not personally." She edges closer. Leo suddenly understands what she’s trying to do. The backup. She has the backup. "And if you shoot him, I shoot you. No chance for a second shot."

The gun shifts position, slightly, as the Clairvoyant steps away to consider. And just like that, he’s in position. 

Eighth time’s the charm. 

He hears her yell “Fitz!” as he moves to grab the barrel, twisting to the side and pulling the shooting hand down. 

"Do it!" he yells in answer, just ahead of the sharp report of the gunshot. 

She’s already there, he can see her out of the corner of his eye, see the light on the flash drive that indicates connection, hear the scream of the costumed villain beside him.

It’s then that he notices the gun is in his hand. He’s done it. 

There’s also a bloody hole in his leg, but he’s going to count this a victory. 

Leo swings the heavy weapon up, pointing it at the clairvoyant’s head. “This is for Skye. And Jemma. And… I guess for me, too.”

A shot rings out, but it’s not his. The Clairvoyant crumples to the ground, the blue of the dendrotoxin staining the wound. Leo follows him to the floor in a slightly more dignified slide. 

"Idiot," Skye says, hurrying over. "We need him alive. Jemma’s going to want to run so many tests to disprove telepathy once and for all when she’s better."

He blinks at her, and she gingerly takes the gun out of his hand, uncocking it and ejecting the bullets just in case.

"Finally figured that button out?" he jokes, gritting his teeth as the first wave of pain shoots through him. Oh,  _now_  his leg hurts. 

"Shut up." She shakes her head and rips the bottom of her shirt so she has something to wrap around his leg. "Just… what were you thinking?"

"Can’t let Jemma get all the…" he hisses as she ties it off, paling at the additional pressure, "the damn sympathy."

Her hands are shaking now, and she rocks back onto her heels, looking at him with hard, bright eyes. “You went in alone.”

"So did you."

"You could have been killed."

"You died twice on the operating table."

Her lips thin into a white line and she stares down at her twice-bloodied hands. He reaches one of his own out and she smooths her thumb over his palm, leaving a red streak behind.

"I wanted to finish it. For you. You needed - you all needed this to be over."

She gives a strangled laugh that’s more of a sob and looks back up at him.

"That’s not what… I need  _you_ , you brilliant moron.”

"Oh." He stares at her, his mind suddenly gone surprisingly blank. Before he can process her intention, she moves in, dropping a soft kiss on his lips. When she pulls away just far enough for talking, he’s caught up to her. "OH. All right, then.  _Good._ Yes. Ok.”

She laughs, and he thinks again how that sound is music to his ears. He’ll be a fool forever if it means he can hear her laugh every day. Then he leans forward to kiss her. Because he doesn’t want her to think him an unappreciative fool. 


End file.
